Second Chances
by Bakura's Guardian Angel
Summary: A startling return. A second chance at revenge. And a fateful encounter. But is it really Marik's chance to win or does an old friend have different plans in mind? warning: It's kind of pointless


**A/N: Here's to Major Re-Editing.**

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_"I am here again, in a familiar place feeling something I've felt before, wondering why it's still here, why I didn't deal with it more fully before. But I'm glad I have a second chance at it ..."_

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The lone figure strode dejectedly down the street.

Marik's mind was working slowly, coming back. As though for the first time, he was understanding and remembering things, every new discovery was considered and put aside. Before, he'd been amazed at the simple existence of things. He'd been amazed by his senses, the feeling he had in his limbs. The simplicity in being able to control this body he inhabited. He'd had time to experience humanity again, though. Now his mind was catching up.

He'd had time to realize a few things.

He had no purpose. Had no direction. He hardly had what one could call a 'life'. How depressing, to live and yet have nothing to live for. He'd only _had_ one goal during his existence. Since the time of his creation, he'd only ever wanted _one_ thing. One simple goal…so close to being reached. But then…in a single moment of idiotic bravado from his Weakness, victory had been snatched from him. What had went through his so-called Hikari's head to force such a sudden decision?

No, it had been before that that his fate had been sealed. Marik nodded to himself, facts and memories returning. Slowly, one fatal decision at a time, he relived his past. The worst part about remembering now was that he knew that his defeat could have been avoided. He _should _have taken care of all the loose ends first. There had been plenty of time for it. In fact, it would have been almost disgustingly easy to bypass all of the mistakes.

Rishid was one of his biggest fumbles. He should have killed him instead of letting Ra's punishment simply hold him comatose. It hadn't been enough. Death was the only answer, if you wanted something to never come back.

He'd had so many chances… How could he have been so blind to all these simple facts? So easily overcome by the Pharaoh? He'd let the euphoria of crushing his enemies get to him. He'd become overconfident. He'd lost. Marik growled under his breath.

He had lost.

His re-emerging mind still hadn't really accepted that. It had yet to sink in, he supposed. It seemed to wrong for him to have been defeated. He should have won, shouldn't he? He _had _been winning. He knew he had. Every opponent, every adversary that he faced, he'd smashed them all! One Soul at a time, fuel for the Shadows. Mai and Joey…and of course, Rishid. Even his cursed Weakness had been held at bay in the Realm of Darkness! They all fell.

But all of them returned in the end didn't they?

He didn't know for sure, he'd been swallowed by the Shadows by then, but he assumed so. The Almighty Pharaoh wouldn't have let them stay in his dark playground. Yes, they'd all broken through his web of concealing Shadows, swept away the fog clouding their memories. Not even _one_ complete victory. What he shouldhave done was murder their vessels, the way he should have murdered Rishid. It truly was the only solution and he'd missed it. A Soul couldn't return to a ravaged body. So why hadn't he? It had worked with his Weakness' father, why shouldn't it have for the other mortals?

It just hadn't occurred to him at the time. He'd thought that victory was already his. The Pharaoh had been as good as beaten. He'd come around with one card, though, in that final battle. The perfect Shadow Game. All his fun ended by one turn. That single destroying card had ended him. Literally.

Until now.

He was confused about his return. He wasn't like the Thief. He had no Item to tie him to this world. Not anymore, anyways. He put a hand on his hip where the Millennium Rod had once hung. It felt odd to be lacking the Item he'd possessed for so long. Without it's familiar weight on his belt, everything felt different. Even if he'd only indirectly possessed it through his Weakness, he'd still claimed it as his own and it had accepted him as its Master.

Not that any of it mattered now.

So he'd come back, but he had nothing, so there was really no point to any of this. He almost longed for the darkness again. He wanted to be back in that void, where Shadows flowed like living creatures and his mind could drift endlessly. Night, the best time of day, was as close as he could get now, but it was merely a cheap imitation. It wasn't the same, not nearly the same, as the eternal night in the Shadow Realm.

Of course he'd hated his fate at first. What sane person would long to be trapped within the icy embrace of the Shadows? It was the place he'd sent innocent people so that they could spend their existence in endless torture! But then, he'd never really been sane. No, he grimaced, definitely not sane.

Now, though, it was easier to think. He could place things out before him and analyze them. He couldn't do that before. It seemed his sanity was returning to him. Perhaps it was _because_ he no longer had a purpose? He considered this for a moment. Then he went back to his other thoughts. For example, if he thought about his original plan now, he could see all its flaws where before there had been none.

He could see what decisions ended him.

He'd been far less stable then. All his thoughts had been consumed by the greed he'd felt, the rage, and the endless anger. The need to have the limitless powers he desired. The need was still there. He could feel it like a tiny spark within him. He still wanted that power, and his thirst for vengeance remained unsatisfied. But there was nothing to back it up this time. There was nothing to stoke the flames. His Weakness was even weaker now then before. He had no anger anymore. He couldn't fuel his Strength's intentions with his own. The child had become just like the rest of the inane mortals in the world.

He paused, stopping as he began to consider his Weakness for a moment.

He hadn't bothered trying to communicate with his Weakness. There was no point to it, like everything else, really. The boy had always hated him, even as he struggled for the same goals. He'd tried to help the fool, and then the impudent brat had turned on him, so he'd taken things into his own hands. Malik had proved that he truly was weak. Before, he'd thought that maybe Malik was different for other mortals. Better. Stronger. Superior. But he'd been just the same. That's why he hadn't tried to speak with him yet.

He hated his Weakness. He'd held him back too long. It had been his fault in the end. All his fault. Even the small mistakes he himself had made _could _have been overcome if the imbecile he was disgusted to acknowledge as his Creator would have known his place! If he'd only listened. If he'd worked with him, rather then siding with everyone but. He'd worked with the Thief, with Isis and Rishid, even with Ra-cursed Pharaoh. Never once had he turned to his Strength for help.

Oh well, in the end, the boy's loss had been his gain. He was back now, was he not? And though his original fire and determination had been extinguished, he still had a thirst for revenge against those who'd ended him. And this time he had the sanity to successfully conquer everyone. He smiled, that sounded so pleasing.

He doubted whether the child even knew he had returned. He was unconscious now, unable to register his existence. The boy may suspect though. He was a dolt in many ways, but the boy was also smart. Even before, he may have suspected that his Darkness would return someday. Well, the day had come.

He smiled wider. Past all the regrets, the mistakes, the things holding him back even still…he had been given a second chance. He had a chance to fix everything. Perhaps he could pick up the pieces and claim the Pharaoh's power even now. Surely the Pharaoh hadn't succeeded in his quest and moved onto the next life yet. How long had it been? Time ran fuzzily in the Shadows. After a while, he'd given up trying to keep it. He'd let go of the bindings of Time and let himself drift. Now he regretted that, but there was no sense in regretting past decisions now. After all, he hadn't _known_ he would return, and so there had been no point in keeping track of time on Mortal Earth.

It wasn't an issue, he'd just intercept the next mortal he found and force the date from them and any other information he could use. Harsh, perhaps, but effective nonetheless.

He walked patiently through a park. It was in the middle of Domino. Yes, he'd arrived to the conclusion that he was still in Domino City, Japan. He didn't know why. He had been sure that his Weakness would wish to return to Egypt. Their home. But perhaps he'd only been gone for a few days Earth time, and they hadn't left yet. Somehow he sensed that wasn't quite right. No, his Weakness and his family, sister and 'brother', had stayed in Japan. Perhaps to be close to the Pharaoh? They felt a duty to him, for some reason.

He especially couldn't understand how his Weakness had come to forgive, trust; practically _worship_ the long-dead Pharaoh even in spite of his place as a Tomb-Keeper. The boy _had_ hated him, hadn't he? He'd been sure he judged his Weakness correctly. The boy had despised the Pharaoh, one of the reasons he'd thought maybe the child was different. When had that changed? Before he'd been defeated or after? No, it had definitely been before because he remembered. It had been the foolish boy's fault in the end. Yes, his fault. Maybe he should have paid the child more attention. Would that really have prevented his demise though? Probably not.

Something caught his attention, the sound of soft footfalls approaching from the opposite direction. He turned to the path that the mortal was coming on and waited for them to appear. Anticipation at the prospect of crushing a human soul filled him so that he was leaning forward instinctively. He had to force himself to be reminded that not only was he not out to cause damage (as entertaining and enjoyable as it was) but also that even if he _had_ wanted to harm the mortal, he couldn't. He no longer had his Item, or the Shadow Powers necessary.

_Who says you need magic to cause pain? After all, why not…you still have your hands don't you? _

The thought drifted through his mind uncalled for. He clenched his fists, grudgingly reminded of the still wavering, unsure, sense of stability within his mind. But he couldn't kill this mortal, he wouldn't let his insanity take over again so soon. Even in the short time he'd been thinking over his current situation, he'd come to almost appreciate his new-found sense of ehanced thought. Why shatter that fragile balance so soon with unnecessary bloodshed? He had to satisfy himself with the assurance that it would come later. Violence, pain, all would come. Later. He could harm those who had defeated him, make them squirm. Make _sure_ that the Pharaoh never got to his After Life. Not now, though. A few questions, a quick interrogation of what the Mortal knew about Battle City. Then he would let them go. This mortal was lucky to have crossed his path on this night. On another, they might not have been spared.

The mortal rounded the bend in the path. Night didn't allow for a clear view just yet though. The shadows of the trees fell across the path often, and the figure was hidden in their darkness. He waited impatiently as they approached where he stood, fingers itching to strangle them. He shook out his hair, brushing the bangs that fell into his eyes away. His earrings jingled quietly as he tried to relax again. A vein pulsed quickly in his neck.

Finally the mortal entered a patch of pathway not enshrouded by the dark shadows of the tall trees. The moonlight shone down, revealing silvery hair, a tall slim figure, and a familiar sparkling Item on his chest.

He was surprised that he recognized the mortal who wasn't _actually _mortal, though he was often under the guise of his mortal Host. He smiled again. Perhaps he _could_ make an exception for this particular person. A bit of violence just might do well for him, and he was sure the Thief would jump at any chance for revenge of his own. He stepped out from his shadowed place under the cover of the trees.

The Thief paused mid-step as his mind registered the face, the clothing (he had changed back into the outfit he'd worn for Battle City, though he wasn't sure exactly why) and his confident stance. Then something happened that he wasn't expecting. The Thief _paled_. His eyes grew wide, and he bit his lip, he was sure, to keep from crying out. He was scared.

It wasn't the Thief.

He remembered the Thief from his Weakness' memories as well as from his own memories on the Battle Ship. The Thief did not show fear as this mortal did. Ever. He always seemed confident in his plans, even when victory was obviously out of reach. How he could maintain such a sense of calm Marik didn't know. But he did know that the Thief was afraid of almost nothing, not even death. Even face to face with Ra, he'd held steady. If he had any true fears, he hid them very well. He himself had been afraid of death. The Shadows had been a relief faced with the possibility of _death._ Of a dark abyss from whence he could never return. Once, the Thief had even said that he _was_ the Darkness.

A creature of the Shadows, his mind was twisted and warped by the years within the Ring. The man was truly insane, not like him, but in his own way, though it was well covered by his cold attitude. He could not die, he could not be contained, or so he had claimed. Everything about the Thief screamed 'threat', 'danger', 'evil'. Even he had the sense to recognize a formidable force when faced with one.

Before, he hadn't worried because he'd had Ra on his side. Tonight he hadn't feared because he had absolutely nothing to lose and an urge to kill something, to squeeze the life right out of them. Anyone who truly valued his life, his very soul, should have known to stay far away from the Thief.

But this frail creature, this scared mortal, was not the Thief. He looked like him, but he was so very different. He had never actually met the Thief's Host. He couldn't even recall his name, perhaps he'd never learned it. But even now, having only just laid eyes on him, he could see that the child was a Weakness, foolish, even more so then his _own_ Weakness. Too innocent, too _good. _

Was he an inconvenience to his master? Did the Thief hate his Light as much as hehated his Weakness? The Thief's Light, his Hikari, was an interesting mortal. He was almost always in the background, never under the spotlight, just like his 'Yami'. But he played a far greater part then he really understood as the Thief's Host. More likely then not, he didn't understand the Curse he harbored.

All these thoughts crossed through Marik's mind in a matter of moments. The boy had paused, but only just. He could almost see the thoughts flitting across the pale teen's face as his own thoughts scurried through his mind.

Recognition first, though indirect.

Fear, a natural emotion for anyone who was unfortunate enough to cross his path.

Concern, for himself?

Indecision. And finally he unsteadily pulled himself together.

He nodded, with effort, what he took to be a greeting of sorts, said a soft "Yami no Malik" then the Thief's Light made to pass him. A brave move. A wiser mortal would have turned around and went in the opposite direction. His hands shook slightly as he approached, and he didn't relax as he passed within three feet of him along the path. But Marik could have none of that. He needed answers still.

Marik's hand snatched out, grasping the boy by his wrist as he passed. He wondered if the Host had honestly thought he'd get by without a confrontation. Marik pulled him over, though the teen resisted, digging his feet in and clawing at the hand clamped on his arm desperately. He pulled him up so that his arm was extended above his head, and with his other hand he grasped the teen's hand that was attempting to free its counterpart.

The boy was half a foot away now, still pulling back as hard as he could despite Marik's obvious advantage in both size and strength, and his muscles were tense as he fought to get free. After just moments though, the boy gave up. His arm went limp under Marik's hand. The child turned his face to the ground despondently, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I prefer to be called Marik." He hissed into the silver-haired boy's ear. He flinched slightly, but it seemed he was used to similar treatment. Bullies? Or was it his Curse? It didn't matter…onto the things at hand. The child's name, he still couldn't remember it. "Answer me a few simple questions," he said softly in his growling voice, "and I shall allow you to leave unharmed. Lie, or refuse to answer, and you'll wish you hadn't. First, tell me your name."

The boy's mouth remained clamped shut. His eyes were open, wide with fear, but he didn't seem afraid of Marik. He seemed more afraid to speak than suffer punishment at his hand. Why? Did he, perhaps, fear his Curse more than he feared him? That could be easily remedied.

"Perhaps a little incentive, then." He whispered, stroking the boy's cheek with one finger before he backhanded him across his cheekbone. The boy's head snapped to the side. He gasped, a _whoosh_ of air as his hand met skin, and yet didn't create any audible sound.

The teen quivered slightly. Then his pale lips moved. Barely a whisper escaped his lips, but Marik caught the sound.

_"Ryou Bakura."_

"See, that wasn't such a difficult thing. Just answer my questions and I won't have to hurt you again, little Hikari."

"I can't." The child, Ryou, said. His voice was gentle…and fearful. He smiled. Fear was good. The boy would answer if his fear were potent enough.

"You can, Ryou Bakura. And you _will_, or you'll suffer." He pressed the sore spot on Ryou's cheek, and chuckled, satisfied, when the boy winced. He seemed distracted though, and Marik frowned slightly. The boy's eyes were focused on a distant spot, his lips moved slightly, whispering a silent conversation with an invisible companion. His Curse.

"Why don't you just let him out, little Hikari? Let he and I settle this. You can be safe, unharmed, and we shall not include you in our disagreements." He tilted his face up so that Ryou was forced to meet his gaze. He hated when people didn't pay attention, didn't realize the threat of his words and acknowledge them; didn't fear him. This boy would learn. "We wouldn't want the innocent Light to be hurt." He chuckled again, releasing the boy's jaw from his grip.

"Don't make him come out. Please, _don't force him to come out_." Ryou said his voice was strained. Marik looked at him curiously. What was the child talking about? Why not let out his Strength? Why not allow him a real opponent?

"Why?" He stated bluntly.

"I don't want him to fight. I don't want him to hurt anyone." The Hikari said in his soft voice. Then, hesitantly, and, for the first time, meeting his gaze willingly, he whispered, "I don't want him to be angry anymore. He's always angry, but he's angrier when he comes out because, I think, it reminds him of what he doesn't have. And now he's angry with you for being here and for threatening me. He 'needs this vessel for himself'."

Marik drew back slightly. The boy was too sincere. He was attempting to _protect_ his Curse (as if the Thief needed protection), and those around him (as if _he_ needed protection). What a foolish thing. The boy was obviously an inconvenience, too weak for his own good. He couldn't help anyone in the face of a true threat. And he was worried about the Thief being angry? Stupid mortal. Marik's Weakness had never given thought to him. Perhaps he could comply with the boy's wishes though, if he agreed to answer his questions.

"If you are agreeable then it won't be necessary for your Curse to manifest himself."

Ryou nodded mechanically. Marik still kept his grip painfully tight on the boy's wrist. He suspected the terrorized Hikari would bolt if he released him. "Tell me what you know of the events after Battle City." He said, touching the boy's unnatural silk hair with one hand.

"I…" The boy was hesitant and Marik's free hand paused before moving incentively to his throat. It would be so easy to kill the boy. Why let him live a moment longer? He was practically useless…why not just do him a favor and end him? Because he needed the information, that was why. He ignored the common sense saying that almost every mortal in this city would know the answers to his questions, that the teen was not a necessity. Besides, killing him now would do no good.

"I only know what happened to Yugi and all his friends. I'm not sure what happened to the other finalists other then what the others say they did." He said carefully.

"Tell me what you know." Marik ordered.

"Yugi…after Yugi won…" he paused, seemingly waiting for a reaction from him. He gave none, but the hand on Ryou's neck tightened slightly to remind him to continue. He did, but his voice said that he relinquished the information unwillingly. "He and the others told me what happened. I had been unconscious at the time, but they didn't tell me why and I don't remember.

"But they told me about you, and how you'd almost won but then lost when Yugi used a card that destroyed Ra. They told me how you used Shadow magic to become one with your monster and how that was what made you lose. They were sure you could never come back. You did though. How? No, it doesn't matter." The boy was rambling slightly, his eyes unfocused again. He seemed completely distracted, as though talking to himself, and it was getting on Marik's nerves. Was this what happened when you shared your mind with a Curse? Somehow he knew that it was because the Spirit was dividing the Hikari's attention. His mind was overtaxed now, split between two threats. But Ryou continued again, needing no prompt this time.

"Then Yugi lost the God cards for a time. They left to find them, Yugi, Joey, and the rest. I didn't go with them though, so I don't know what happened exactly. They were gone for a while, I guess. I'm not sure how long; I hadn't seen them in a while. But when they came back they'd gotten the cards back. That was just recently. I think that Yugi-kun is planning a trip to Egypt. The Spirit in his Puzzle needs to go there to release his memories. That's all I know."

"Do you know when?" Marik asked quickly, his voice urgent in his excitement. He wasn't too late; the Pharaoh was still here. He could still win. Then everything would be his. Everything. The God cards, with all their eternal might. His Millennium Rod, and all the other Items he could gain. The Powers of the Pharaoh, the very powers that could hold back the Shadows, or release them. That was what he wanted, and that was what he would gain. He began to grow impatient, as the boy remained quiet, lost within his own thoughts. He gripped the Hikari's wrist harder, "Ja-a gahbi Nur ((Come on, foolish Light))" He growled harshly in Arabic. "When is the Pharaoh leaving? I won't hurt you, but you have to answer my questions."

The boy nodded slightly.

"Soon, I'm not –" he cut off. His face paled even more and he doubled over in pain. He gasped and his body shook with convulsive shudders. Suddenly he was clutching at Marik's arm, instead of pulling away. His eyes were flickering. "_No, hoka no boku, please. Don't, I can do this. I can…." _He said to himself, so quietly it was merely a fervent mumble. Marik was completely forgotten as the child's Curse pressed against the walls of his mind to gain freedom. The Thief wanted to be released. He wanted revenge.

Well if the Thief wanted to come out, by all means let him. He could get the remainder of his questions answered by the Thief, and perhaps have some fun with him as well. Yes, it would be a shame to harm the Thief's innocent Host, regardless of his Weakness. Better to let the Strength take the damage. But suddenly the boy went almost completely limp. He managed to stay on his feet, but most of his weight was supported on Marik now, leaning into his side and hanging onto the arm that held him captive. He was still gasping slightly, but he seemed to have more of a hold on himself now. The shudders stopped and his eyes focused again. His eyes displayed clearly what pain he suffered in his mind though.

"He…tells you…to let go. He won't…he doesn't want me…to tell you…anymore." He gasped before then he slowed his breathing, controlling it. The child looked up at him, his eyes pleading with him to just listen. "I know that you have no reason to listen to me, but please just let me go." He pulled slightly on his arm.

Marik frowned. It seemed that the Thief had even more of a hold over his Weakness then he'd originally guessed. He growled again slightly, and then said, "Answer me when the Pharaoh leaves, and where he resides. Do that, and I shall let you go without any further problems for you or your Curse."

The terrorized Hikari shook his head. "You don't understand Marik. He won't let me!"

Marik's patience for the boy had run out. "I don't think_ you _understand that I'm not really giving you a choice in the matter, gahbi!"

Ryou took a deep breath, and then let it out in a sigh. He didn't answer. A familiar surge of heated anger flowed up in Marik. He slapped the boy for the second time that night. And once again, the boy didn't make a sound, merely flinched. He hissed, and then slapped him once more across his opposite cheek. Then he pushed Ryou away. He stumbled back, falling to his knees with a small whimper of pain. Marik knelt on one knee over him, wrenching the boy's head back by his long silk hair.

"You will regret you stubbornness." He purred in the boy's ear then he punched him in the abdomen. The Light curled over, arms wrapping around his torso. Marik pulled the boy by his arm, twisting it so he cried out slightly, back to his feet. "You have one last chance, Hikari no baka." His hand wrapped around the boy's throat, cutting off his windpipe. The skin began to bruise where his fingers pressed hard against his neck. "Answer before your air is gone, and I'll allow you to live." He laughed softly, grinning. "Is your Curse nervous yet? What will he do when I kill you?"

Ryou's brown eyes were now panicked. Perhaps the Thief didn't fear death, but his abused Host did. He made a strangled sound, and then his eyes closed. His face grew still. For a moment, Marik thought that perhaps he _had _killed the Thief's Light. He made no movement, and if he breathed, Marik could not tell. But then his eyes flashed open again. They were no longer chocolate brown, but a dark reddened brown. They narrowed dangerously…so the Curse had come out to play.

The Thief's face was livid as he took hold of Marik's wrist with slender, but surprisingly strong fingers, and twisted his whole body around 360 degrees with a surge of strength, ripping himself away as his hand slipped free of the pale neck. Marik simply laughed though. Now he could have some 'fun'.

The Thief stepped up to Marik, seeming taller though he must have been the same height as his Host, and punched him square in the jaw. He touched the wound tenderly, still smiling in morbid fascination.

"Never. Touch. My. _Hikari._" The Thief hissed, enunciating each word, before he punched him again.

"I'm surprised you waited so long to come out" Marik sneered. "I would have thought you'd appear as soon as your Host recognized who I was."

"Believe me, I regret that I didn't." he raised his fist to punch him again, but Marik caught it this time, pushing him back.

"Concerned for your pretty Hikari's well being? He's fragile…so unlike yourself." he smirked, smashing a knee into the Thief's side. But it seemed that he barely felt the blow. He stumbled, pressing a hand to his ribs, but just as quickly he straightened and shrugged it off like a mild annoyance.

"I was more concerned that he would reveal any more information to the likes of you. How did you come back…and where's Malik, in the Shadows again?" Bakura said it more like an accusation then a query, stepping back as he did so.

" My Weakness is unconscious, not that it's any of your concern. As for your first question…I don't know." Marik said honestly, grinning maliciously and taking a step forward. "But it doesn't really matter how, because the fact is that I _have._"

"Yes, an extremely _unfortunate_ turn of events for anyone involved. Which reminds me. I have yet to return the favor you did me by sending me into the Darkness when we last met."

"Ha! Didn't I get that when I was sent into the Shadows myself, even as you returned?" Marik chortled.

"The Pharaoh's judgment, not mine."

"Do you have a different punishment in mind?" Marik's hands were quivering in excitement. Oh, how he wanted to just attack this Thief. To cause him pain, to wring his skinny neck until he lay cold and lifeless on the ground.

"I'm going to _kill_ you." It seemed the Thief had the same idea as he.

"Just try it Thief."

The pale skinned figure crossed bare arms over his chest. "I think you underestimate me, Marik. You harmed my Hikari. You shall die the most painful of deaths. Excruciating, and slow."

"It seems I hit a nerve with little Ryou. You're very protective of your Light."

Bakura shrugged. "You've threatened my weapon. He's my tool. I need him for the use of his body."

"So he said." Marik nodded. "But tell me, are you the tool's master, or its _friend_?" He mocked.

The Thief hissed, then snarled "Is Malik _your_ 'friend'? Don't be foolish, or did the Shadows corrode your brain while you played with their magic?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps they did. Personally, I feel better now then I ever did before. Perhaps the Shadows simply corroded my insanity. My mind, for once, is clear."

"Clear? If anything you're more insane then before." Bakura said.

Marik growled, but remained relaxed. "So what now? Here we are, each with a drive to slaughter the other. What are you waiting for, Yami no Bakura?"

Said yami touched the Item hanging around his neck by a chord. "I have an Item. It seems young Malik gave _yours_ to the Pharaoh. So I think I'm correct in assuming that _I _have the advantage here. I will decide whether the first move will be mine, and when that will occur. _Personally_, I think I'd find watching you snap to be quite entertaining."

"Your Hikari was far more agreeable." Marik said.

"My Hikari is far too weak for his own good." Bakura amended.

"And is that why you abuse him? To make him stronger?" Marik asked, curious about the child's fragile composure. His reactions hadn't been what he'd expected for the most part. Was it the Thief's doing?

Bakura's eyes were furious again at the mention of Ryou's assumed abuse. He said coldly, "I would never abuse my Host. I have never laid a _finger_ to him for the sake of harming him. And forgive me if I'm wrong," his voice was thick with sarcasm. "But didn't we already _discuss _my Hikari?"

Marik ignored the last part. "Are you aware of the effect you have on Ryou? Perhaps you don't abuse him intentionally, though even _that_ I have difficulty believing, but the boy _is_ abused. He fears you like nothing else."

"As it should be. I'm truly curious though. Why do you _care?_" Bakura said impatiently, uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Your Silver-Hikari is intriguing. He isn't like Malik. He isn't like the Pharaoh's brat, Yugi. In reality, he's just like them, and yet completely different. He's isolated, which is, I'm sure, your doing. He's different… He seems to obey you willingly enough." Marik thought out loud, gazing at Bakura curiously.

"Not willingly enough, actually. If he'd listened to me, he would have revealed nothing to you tonight." He said through clenched teeth. "And, for you information Marik, your 'cleared' state of mind is getting on my nerves."

"You would have him do that, at the risk of his life?" Marik said, raising an eyebrow.

Bakura gave him a degrading look. "You wouldn't have killed him."

"Wouldn't I? How can you be so sure of yourself?" He said with a frown.

"I had no doubts that you would harm him, and I was right, which is why I made myself known. But he can handle a few cuts and bruises. It might even be good for him. You wouldn't have killed him, though."

Marik considered the situation. Bakura was calm, though dangerous as ever. He was angry though, too impatient. Marik's own anger was simmering just below the surface, temporarily held back for his curiousity. But the Thief was wrong. He'd come dangerously close to ending Ryou's life. And he hadn't had any qualms about it.

"I almost did kill him, Bakura. His life was hanging by a thread…the reason why you stepped in at the last moment. He would have died, had you not appeared."

Bakura's face darkened. "Another reminder of why I'm going to punish you."

"Would you kill Malik?" Marik asked, feeling a hot irritation towards the pale figure. "Would you murder my Innocence?"

"Your _Innocence?" _Bakura scoffed incredulously, laughing. "I thought he was your _Weakness._ You know you despise Ishtar… And in answer to your question: Yes, I would kill him. I have no attachments to the Tomb-Keeper, and I wouldn't hesitate in taking your life for the sake of your Creator's, regardless that isn't what I had in mind for you. I told you it would be a slow death, didn't I?"

A few moments passed in silence. The Thief regarded him as inferior, standing confidently, arms folded over his chest self-importantly. Marik sighed, putting all the pointless questions Bakura refused to answer aside. He didn't honestly care whether he knew of the mysteries surrounding the silver haired Hikari and his Curse. He clenched his fingers into tight fists. One more try.

"Tell me when the Pharaoh is leaving, and then we can both go our own ways. You'll never see me again." He said, frustrated.

"Actually, there is a reason I didn't want my Host telling you about the Pharaoh's departure. You see I have my own plans when it comes to the Pharaoh and his memories. I can't really have you interfering." A surge of heated anger almost had him lunging at Bakura, desperately trying to choke his life out. He was SO sick of him!

"Your own plans? Ghabi! Fine then…I'll find someone else who can help me. It was interesting, to say the least, seeing you, though I much prefer your Hikari for his willingness." Marik whipped around, his cloak fluttering before he completely lost it.

"Bloody fool, you think I'll let you leave? I will not have you stopping the Pharaoh for your own foolish goals. I need him to think he's already won, and if you show up it will ruin _everything_." The Thief hissed madly. He dashed forward. Marik saw him coming out of the corner of his eye and did a full roundhouse. Bakura dodged though, and slashed out with a glinting knife. He should have remembered that the Thief usually had a knife with him somewhere. The blade met its mark. Pain seared through his arm where a long jagged cut ran from elbow, around and down halfway to his wrist. Bakura then took the knife and jammed it into his shoulder.

"Payback for what I did to my Hikari at the request of your _Weakness_." He hissed. Marik screamed, a short primal howl of pain, before he cut off. Red swarmed his vision as he searched for his slim opponent.

"I swear to Ra Bakura! You're going to wish you hadn't done that." He said jabbing out at the Thief with a flurry of punches and a few kicks. Bakura did his best to dodge the blows, but couldn't avoid being kicked in the jaw followed by a quick knifelike hand jab that hit his collarbone. If it had hit it's target, the jugular, it would have crushed the windpipe and he would have suffocated. Choked by his own broken neck. As it was, he'd have an absolutely viscious bruise there soon.

Bakura stumbled back and laughed, rubbing his jaw and holding a hand to his chest. Then he sneered, "It's about time you came back to yourself. I was worried that perhaps my Hikari had poisoned your mind with his genteel. It isn't like you to hold back."

"You'll wish he had when you die." Marik spat through clenched teeth, grimacing from the pain flooding his senses.

"We'll see. Here's just a little taste of the fate you'll receive for sending me into the Shadows." The Millennium Ring began to glow. Marik sensed the wave of Shadow Magic crashing towards him, but knew he couldn't stop it, not without the Rod. He braced himself. The powers that hit him were powerful enough to force him to his knees. He held his head as the voices of countless Souls trapped in the Shadows overwhelmed his mind. Rusty nails could have been dragged over his brain tissue and it would have been preferable to the pain that followed. Bakura's Shadow Magic had increased.

It was all Marik could do to keep from writhing on the ground in agony. He wouldn't give Bakura so much satisfaction though. He shakily stood, veins pulsing and twitching as he struggled against the magic. Suddenly the pain left. He felt metal against his throat and as his vision cleared, he realized that it was the Thief's knife.

"Go ahead." He snapped. "Kill me. Slit my throat."

"Hardly. I'm going to allow you to live _tonight _Marik. I told you that, but you'll wish I hadn't. As the years pass you're going to wish that you had died by my knife." Bakura said, his breath hot on his face. "Shall I explain what I'm going to do to you, Marik? There's nothing I find sweeter then getting my revenge. It's what I exist for." He paused, smirking. "The Shadows were not kind to me after you sent me there…You shall suffer ten times what I did." He pressed the knife a bit harder, a bead of blood dewing on the silver blade. "First, I will allow you to have three more hours of freedom, but all the time you'll feel my magic's working in your mind.

"At the end of those three hours, Malik will regain control and you will be trapped in the darkest corner of his mind. That is where you shall spend the rest of Malik's life. Your life. You'll be free to see as Malik sees, know what he does. His senses will be yours. But you will not be able to make contact. He'll never know you're there. But don't think I'm going to allow you to sit there without further punishment. Marik, that pain you just felt, it never gets better. You don't get _used _to it. It only gets worse over time, my friend. That is what you shall feel in your whole Spirit for the rest of your existence until Malik dies, at which point, so shall you."

Marik felt numb. Losing a second time, after a mere day of life, was a harsh blow. There had been a part of him that truly thought maybe this was his time to triumph. He dropped to his knees, not caring that his pride was unsalvageable and that he was allowing Bakura the most satisfaction he could possibly gain from the situation. To him, none of it mattered now. "So much for second chances." He muttered darkly to himself. "I guess they're short lived."

"That they are…" Bakura said, answering his personal musings as he stepped away. "Would you like to know why? It's because those who cannot do what needs to be done the first time don't deserve second chances."

"You're twisted, Bakura. You've had so many 'chances' you've probably lost count."

"Yes well, I'm an exception. My fate is to defeat the Pharaoh, regardless of how many tries it takes. And every time, I leave my mark...each return is significant. Vital. I'm more determined then you." He lifted the knife, licking one side the bloodied blade. "Because I pity you, I'll even leave you with the company that got you into this mess you've made, such as it is. Enjoy your existence, Yami no Malik."

Bakura's expression changed into that of surprise as the Hikari was suddenly tossed into control. He stumbled slightly before righting himself. He looked around, taking in the still dark sky, and the figure kneeling, head down. His eyes widened when he saw the blood streaking down the man's arm, and he looked like he might pass out when he saw that the blade that had supposedly caused the injuries was in his hand. He threw it down so it landed with the blade stabbed into the dirt path, the handle jutting upwards. Now that his Curse had receded completely, he seemed much more aware. His distractedness from earlier gone.

"Yami no Malik! Or, um…Marik." He stepped hesitantly towards the figure. Marik looked up at the Light. His eyes were blank. Marik winced suddenly as the pain in his arm became much more apparent. And, as Bakura had promised, there was a shadow of pressure in his mind. It was like a predator, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

How long had Bakura said he had until he suffered endless torture? Two hours? Or was it three? He couldn't even recall and it had been barely five minutes before. He looked at the Thief's Host, but then turned his face away, fighting the urge to attack the body that had caused this pain. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the child step forward slowly until he was standing right beside him.

"Marik?" He asked. Marik got another shock as the teen actually knelt down beside him. He placed a hand on his shoulder, as though trying to comfort him. Marik slapped it away.

"Don't _touch _me, baka." He snarled coldly. "Just go. Leave me."

Ryou didn't leave though. He just knelt there beside him. Then he said softly, completely calm. "I'm so sorry, Marik. I'm sorry for what he did to you. I wish I could have done more…I can't usually stop him though. He rarely ever speaks to me, but when he does…well, usually it's just to remind me of how incapable or clumsy I am. Or to yell at me when I do something wrong, like I did tonight." Marik didn't move as the Hikari, who seemed to have a habit of rambling, put his hand back on his injured shoulder. Then, slowly, he turned his face to look at him.

The bruises, which had fully appeared by now, seemed much more real on the boy. He was softer, more vulnerable. Though Bakura had had the same marks, on Ryou's gentle face they were more morbid. But his eyes were kind, if guarded and tense, despite what Marik had done to him before. Despite all the horror stories he was sure that Ryou had been told about him. He was still concerned. For him.

He glared at the Light. "How can you be so _kind_?" He asked sounding disgusted. In truth he was. He detested the child's complete kindness, but at the same time there was something almost inviting about it. He continued, "How can you be telling me that you are the one who's sorry when it's your Ra-cursed Demon who's to blame? How can you sit here and try to comfort a person who's been hunting your friends' souls for years, that same person who…" He trailed off. His eyes were narrowed in confused anger and pain, staring at the boy as if he could read the answers off his face.

He reached his hand up, though it burned to try and move the ravaged arm. He guided his fingers to the boy's face and touched the bruises along his cheek, as if assuring himself that they were real, down to his jaw, and finally tracing the dark marks circling his neck. Wherever he touched, streaks of red were left on the skin from the blood, still flowing freely, that had dripped onto his hand. It seemed as though the blood accented the bruises he'd left. They were dark, purple-brown, contrasting sharply on his pale skin. But he'd do it over again if he had reason to…he didn't mind causing pain. The teen just sat as though he were paralyzed, his eyes gazing at the ground. He didn't flinch as the fingers traced over his skin, leaving their crimson trails.

Marik looked away from the bruised neck and back to his face. "Did he lie?" He asked distantly as though to himself.

Ryou looked up at Marik, confused. "About what?"

"Does he abuse you, or did he tell the truth when he said that he would never harm you?"

Ryou looked away. "Oh. No, he told the truth." He said, suddenly pulling back from Marik, looking awkward and uncomfortable. He leaned back, sitting up on his knees.

"Then why are you so afraid of him? Why did you fear him more then you feared me, when I was the more prominent threat?" Marik asked accusingly.

Ryou traced a finger along the ground before he paused, looking out into the surrounding park and letting out a slow sigh. "You know, sometimes I feel like I'm some type of contagious disease. I infect everyone I'm around. Even you…" He said sadly, looking at Marik. His eyes were full of guilt. "I try so hard to protect others, but I never can." He paused then said harshly. "I hate him, and I hate him the most when he's hurting people."

"Why do you do as he says then? How can you try to tell me you hate him when you do everything he asks? You're so obedient to him when he does nothing for you. If you really hate him so much, why don't you defy him?" Marik said, standing up with a hiss of pain. His bloody arm hung limply at his side.

"I'm not 'so obedient'. He doesn't give me much of a choice… But I try to do what he says because…" Ryou paused, following his example. "I know that somewhere in him there's at least _some_ good. And I always hope that maybe if _I'm _good enough, and do as he says unless it's going to end up hurting my friends, that maybe he'll change, stop hurting people, and be more like..." Ryou's voice faded away. He sighed again, forlornly. Marik just shook his head, amazed and revolted by the boy's impossible ideals.

"Like who? The Pharaoh?" He scoffed halfheartedly, forcing a coarse laugh. " Even as you do what he says, _so_ he can cause pain, you hope for him to undergo some miraculous transformation." His voice turned serious. "Your yami is a Curse, and that's what he'll always be. He has nothing in his Soul except hatred, and anger... He'll never change, even for his Light. You should just give up."

"You changed." Ryou said defiantly, showing a hint of strength and glaring slightly. His voice had a sharp edge. "Whatever is in your Soul now, it isn't _just _hate and anger. There's sadness as well. If you had more time, you could change Marik. You could start to care. Why can't he?"

"I couldn't change. Not like you think I could. And he can't change…He's a demon, ghabi. He's evil." He said in frustration, glaring coldly at Ryou.

"So are you. But you are changing, and I believe that, given enough time, he could too. Everyone has the potential to be a good person." Ryou insisted. "In Battle City you wouldn't have even considered this conversation."

Marik shook his head, thinking that more and more that the boy sounded like Isis or the Pharaoh's 'friend', Tea. "You're too generous to people. They don't deserve it. _He_ doesn't deserve it."

Ryou cocked his head to the side. "Do you?"

"No." Marik replied. He turned away and began walking in the direction he'd come from.

"Where are you going?" Ryou asked, standing stock still in the middle of the path.

Marik considered just continuing, but then said in a detached voice so as to salvage what remaining pride he had, "I've been sentenced to a lifetime of pain, foolish Light. I'm going to try and appreciate what freedom I have left."

"Well, do you want me to come with you so you don't have to be alone?" the teen asked, hesitant as ever. It was plain in his voice, he was hoping Marik would say no.

"I've been alone my entire existence, Hikari. I prefer it." Marik said, not looking back, and then walking forward.

There was silence behind him, but then he heard a soft whisper, all harshness and sharp edges gone. "I'll try to fix it, Marik."

He didn't answer right away, but he did pause. The Hikari was too kind, too sympathetic. Though he couldn't possibly want anything more to do with Marik, he continued to make promises that couldn't be fulfilled. He knew that there was nothing the boy could do to stall his 'fate' as Bakura had called it. He couldn't fix it. Why did he even bother? Why did he continue to try? What could that Ra-cursed boy possibly have to offer him? He rubbed his head, trying to push away his confusion and the ominous pressure foreshadowing the Thief's so-called judgment.

Harshly, he said, "Don't bother. If you want to help, do ourselves a favor and don't tell anyone about our encounter."

He knew he wouldn't see the boy again, and it wouldn't matter if he did. He would be forever lost in his Weakness' mind, unacknowledged and completely forgotten.

It had been a fool's chance, Marik told himself. Only by a miracle could he have managed a second attempt at capturing the Pharaoh's power. Well, miracles just didn't work for him. The Thief was probably right when he'd accused him of not deserving the chance he'd been given. Yes, tonight all he'd had was a moment to refresh his memory of what living felt like.

The words he'd muttered to himself earlier repeated themselves in his mind. 'So much for second chances.'

_-3 Hours Later-_

He was on the far side of Domino, as far from the Hikari as he could get. He'd been striding through a maze of slum ghettos, alleyways, and back roads trying to calm himself. The time alone had allowed the anger to resurface, fresh.

Too much time to think; it was, in it's own way, a punishment as well. All he wanted now was to kill the Thief; to murder him, and he couldn't. Marik had lost that chance. Sekhmet curse him. He deserved a death as drawn out and painful as the one awaiting him. He mind pulsed, throbbing as though someone were hammering inside his skull. He leaned on a faded brick wall for support, grinding his teeth against the coming onslaught of pain.

He felt it the moment control started being dragged away from him. It felt like suction, his Weakness gaining strength as he lost his thanks to the Shadow Magic in his mind. _Curse _Bakura. Of all the creatures to run into, he'd had to run into that millennia's-old Spirit. And he knew that this was it. Even now, the fire was burning, shredding, ripping into his mind. He fell to his knees.

A wave of agony washed over him, pulling apart his newly discovered mental clarity. He thought he screamed, howling in pain, but more likely it was only in his mind. He couldn't control himself well enough to make a sound anymore. Oh how he wanted to though. _Some_ way to express what was flooding his consciousness.

_That's it then _he thought to himself. A lifetime of pain. Maybe he'd get lucky...second chances weren't so unheard of. Even those small hopes began to diminish as time passed slowly. Did he still have control of the body? Or was he in Malik's mind now? Would Malik realize why he was here in the outskirts of Domino? Did he know? A fresh flow of pain added itself to his already suffering mind. If anything the Thief was thorough.

This was the problem with second chances. They weren't fair. Did Bakura really deserve the chances he was given when Marik didn't even get _one_ extra chance? Or did he have his chance. Had that been it, and he'd just messed up again? He'd never know, he guessed. Maybe this wouldn't be it. Maybe the Hikari would find a way around this and keep his unlikely promise...maybe... _That's right, keep hope alive _Marik thought slowly. What else did he have? With an already lost second chance, all he could do was hope for the possibility of a third.

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_"...and I know that if I need a third chance, I'll get it. I also know that if it comes up again, I'll recognize it sooner and deal with it more readily. This is growth." ~Jan Denise_

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****A/N: **I'm in the process of outlining a sequel for anyone who cares to know.

**Review Plea:** **I DID THE WORK, PLEASE FAVOR ME WITH A RESPONSE!**


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